


One at a time

by mrua7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Partnership, References to Drugs, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 02:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10584306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Napoleon and Illya are tasked to track down a drug dealer in New York city.





	

 

Kuryakin wasn’t dressed in his usual black attire, nor was he neat in his appearance; he was dressed in baggy dungarees, with a brown plaid flannel shirt. Beside him on the sofa was a worn brown leather bomber jacket.

His footwear left something to be desired as his brown boots, sort of a cowboy style were badly worn, with a hole developing in one sole.

His hair was greasy and unkempt, and apparently he hadn’t shaved...or bathed for that matter, in days.

Seated next to him was his equally disheveled partner. Napoleon was wearing a pair of threadbare black pants, a dirty grey sweatshirt, a knit cap and a pair of worn loafers. He had a moth eaten wool coat by his side.

Solo too was scruffy, with a dark beard masking his handsome features.

For anyone who knew either man, their appearance was startling, especially Solo, but they were obviously under cover and no one here know them as UNCLE agents. To anyone who saw them, they looked like a pair druggies...

“Hey man, wanna hit,” an even filthier man with long stringy hair held out a joint to the agents. He’d just entered the flophouse, offering marijuana for a price of course, but it seened the people there weren’t able to pay what he was asking for it.

The guy named Waits generously gave them free samples, digging into his rucksack; he knew the high they’d achieve would get them wanting more.

They’d come up with the scratch. They always did, even if they had to beg, borrow or steal to do it.

He’d usually brought high quality cannabis from Mexico, Jamaica, Panama and Columbia which was considered the best, and commanded a good price per ounce.

Now however,  now he had marijuana smuggled from India; it was from unfertilized, seedless female cannabis plants. There they discovered a technique of culling male plants which resulted in a more potent cannabis. It was commanding five to ten times the price of Colombian per ounce.

Illya merely waved him off, barely looking at the man through the slits that were his eyes. It was Solo who leaned forward, speaking in whispers.

“Hey Waits, I want your best shit…”

“You got money dude?”

“Of course I do.” Napoleon took a wad of cash from his trouser pocket and held it out.

Waits eyes opened wide. He dug into the canvas sack, pulling out a handful of large dried marijuana buds wrapped in large bundles as well a fistful rolled doobies.

“How much you want for all of it?” Napoleon asked.

“You ain’t got enough man, maybe I could sell you about a quarter of my weed for what you got.” He was being greedy and planned to charge Solo a higher price.

Illya leaned forward, speaking in a cold and calculating voice. His eyes were now wide open and flashed Waits an icy glare.

“No, how about all of it for free.” He’d drawn his Special, and pointed it at the man’s chest.

Waits was momentarily stunned by the blond, and it allowed Solo to slap a pair of handcuffs on the man’s wrists.

Napoleon and Illya gathered up the man and refilled the rucksack; they quickly hustled their prisoner out the door of the flophouse.

“Where the hell you taking me?” Waits groaned as he figured they were going to kill him.

“Oh just a short trip off a long pier,” Napoleon grinned, it was feral and frightening.

“Do you want to live?” Illya hissed as they shoved the man in the back of their car; the Russian sitting next to him while keeping his gun trained on Waits.

“Are you shitting me man. Of course I want to fucking live. Just take my stash and let me go please?”

“Sorry, can’t do that,” Napoleon said as he started the car, pulling out the the darkened New York street.

“Please don’t kill me. I can get you more of the stuff if you want it that bad?” Waits was nearly in tears at this point.

“More?” Illya asked. “Better still, tell us who is your supplier and we might let you live to see another day.”

By the time they got to headquarters and into interrogation Waits almost ready to crack.

They let him sit and stew by himself, with only the ticking of the clock on the wall for company.

Solo and Kuryakin returned, showered and shaven, wearing their suits. Waits barely recognized them.

After telling him he was a prisoner of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement, and mentioning the prison facility Tartarus, located in the Antarctic….they got what they needed.

“I just call my supplier and he gives me what I need.  I make fifteen percent off all I sell. I make six hundred bucks, sometimes as much as a thousand a month, a few times even more. He sorta pays me bonuses when I do real good and  gives me my own stash for free.”  
“And who is this generous man?” Illya leaned forward, placing both hands on the table as he menacingly stared at Waits.

“I don’t know his name; his card’s in my wallet with the number.

Solo searched the wallet, drawing out a business card with an all too familiar logo printed on it.  The number was handwritten...

  


“Okay Waits, you’re going to call your man and set up a meeting to pick up more marijuana from him,” Illya said.

“But I just got my supply from him, no way he’s going to believe I sold all of it that fast!”

“Don’t worry about that, “ Napoleon said.” We’ll supply the cash, you just set up that meeting.”

Three days later they had their man, a low level THRUSH who’d set himself up in a little side business.

“Shame we only got the one Thrushie,” Illya said.

He and Napoleon were walking down the corridor in Headquarters side by side.

“Hey, I’ll take it,” Napoleon smiled.” Even if it’s one at a time.


End file.
